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When they looked out of the door in the morning the guard of the day before was gone and a new one had taken his place. Evidently Dr. Caxton was going to do the job thoroughly. Towards noon a buggy drove into the yard and a white-haired man got out and came up on the porch. He carried a shabby medicine case. "Why, Dr. Lane!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin cordially, when she saw him.
Then Mr. Caxton, slightly blushing, and shyly rubbing his spectacles, said, "You see, Pisistratus, that though poor Jack has devoted uncommon pains to induce the publishers to recognize the merit he has discovered in the 'History of Human Error, he has failed to do so." "Not a bit of it; they all acknowledge its miraculous learning, its "
"You see you have a fine choice here, and of a nature pleasing, and not unfamiliar, to a classical reader; or you may borrow a hint from the early dramatic writers." "Ay, there is something in the Drama akin to the Novel. Now, perhaps, I may catch an idea." "Well, sir?" MR. CAXTON. "And called it 'The Pain of the Sleep of the World." PISISTRATUS. "Very comic, indeed, sir."
Sir, in loyalty, men fight and die for a grand principle and a lofty passion; and this brave Sir William was paying back to the last Plantagenet the benefits he had received from the first!" "And yet it may be doubted," said I, maliciously, "whether William Caxton the printer did not "
Dream, O youth! dream manfully and nobly, and thy dreams shall be prophets! Letter From Pisistratus Caxton TO Albert Trevanion, Esq., M.P. My Dear Mr.
The books were published in the vernacular: the people read them. It was in 1476 that Caxton set up his press at Westminster. The first printing press established in York was set up in 1509. Nevertheless the general state of education and scholarship in England in the fifteenth century was at a low level, mainly owing to lack of enthusiasm and to the limited subjects of study.
If we add that the entire structure is warmed in winter by heated air, conveyed in tubes from the furnaces of the press, our description will be complete, and we may say such is the printing office of the nineteenth century in Paris. How changed from that of German Guttenberg or English Caxton, three hundred years before! Such is it by daylight.
"May be, Miss Caxton, you may think to-morrow mornin' that it would have been just as well to wait till the night was gone before you said that when you see the British Capin hanging by the neck in his fine regimentals, and hear that his guard were the men that did it as I know they've sworn to do you may think after all they an't so mean speritted."
"About half what it is now," said the Poor Boy. "Hum that would be width so and so depth so and so.... What's the fall?" "Thirty feet." "Can't use it all, can we?" The Poor Boy shook his head. "Well I tell you, I'll bring a tape-measure to-morrow and go into the thing thoroughly. By the way, you know Mrs. Caxton, who's staying at the inn?"
PISISTRATUS. "Blanche, I say." Blanche glances in triumph towards Mr. Caxton. "I hear him, child; I hear him. I retract my vindication of man. Oracles warn in vain: so long as there is a woman on the other side of the screen, it is all up with Camarina." It is greatly to be regretted that Mr.
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